


An Army

by MetaAllu



Category: Black Panther (2018)
Genre: Consensual Sex, First Time, First time with a man, Kissing, M/M, Resolved Sexual Tension, Rough Sex, it's not gentle thats for sure, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-20
Updated: 2019-05-20
Packaged: 2020-03-08 08:09:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18890611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MetaAllu/pseuds/MetaAllu
Summary: That throne room scene except T'Challa climbs into M'Baku's lap and seduces him for an army. Or tries to.





	An Army

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ben_jaded](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ben_jaded/gifts).



> this might seem a little coercion-y but i wanna make it clear they're resolving sexual tension with an army as an excuse to do so.

“Could you give me and Lord M’Baku a moment?”

The room clears out until it is only the two of them,. They are facing each other, one standing, one sitting. T’Challa takes a few steps closer on quickly-recovered legs.

“Thank you,” he says. It’s a simple show of gratitude. No hidden motives, simply this.

“I owed you a great debt,” M’Baku leans further back, considering the former king. Still the king in his mind. He will be again, even if walls might be streaked with blood in the process. M’Baku is sure. “A life for a life. Consider it paid.”

“Please allow my mother to stay here,” T’Challa continues, diplomatic and careful. He’s sure his next request will not be so easily accepted.

“No harm will come to her. I give you my word.” M’Baku’s answer is easy, just as frank as the rest of their conversation. The two of them may have a rivalry between them, but they have a great respect for one another as well. They are both mighty warriors, skilled in their own ways, and they both rule their people well.

“You know,” T’Challa comes closer again, his movement silent other than the swish of his clothing now that the power of the panther runs through his veins again.  “I could use an army as well.”

“I bet you could,” M’Baku laughs, mouth opening in a wide smile before dropping so quickly T’Challa has whiplash. “But no. I will not give an Jabari lives for your cause.”

T’Challa frowns in return, considering the other man. There is a hurt here, deep, he knows, made and then spread so many decades ago. He steps closer to the throne until he stands on the dais, the energy between himself and Lord M’Baku heavy in the air now as they stare each other down.

T’Challa puts one hand on an arm rest, but M’Baku makes no move to move him away, so he slides with cat-like grace into the other man’s lap. There is another tactic he can try.

“It is our cause,” he tells him, voice low and soft. “It is for all of us.”

M’Baku is regarding him now, head tilted as he considers his lapful. One large hand lands on T’Challa’s thigh and squeezes, testing the strong, warm muscle beneath his hold. He licks his lips, and T’Challa can tell that his  _ interest  _ is peaked, but when he speaks, it is with a level tone: “Oh, us? You are the first king to come here in centuries, and now you speak of ‘us’?”

“I can not speak for past kings, but yes. Us.”

M’Baku scoffs. His hand is sliding higher, giving into the temptation to touch, if only slightly. “We will not help you,” he tells the king.

“Allow me to change your mind.”

This is not a line that they have crossed. They have done many things, fought many fights, sent long looks at each other, full of fighting spirit and meaning. There have been touches in dark corridors, nothing more than hands a little lower or higher than they should go, but it’s been building for a long time now. It’s been brewing under T’Challa’s skin, a craving he had never sought nor even thought to satisfy.

“How do you suggest to do such a thing?” M’Baku asks him, and his tone is such that T’Challa knows if he goes forward with this plan, there is no turning back. There will be no backing out of it. This is a wordless pact between them to stop acting like whatever this aching, hungry thing between them is, that it does not exist.

T’Challa nimble fingers fumble, but he unclasps his cape, and the sound of it falling heavy to the dais is the only sound in the room other than their breathing and the quiet sounds of snow outside. T’Challa leans in closer, he wraps his arms around M’Baku’s neck, lowering his lashes in almost-deference as he looks at him.

“How indeed,” he whispers, and M’Baku’s lips consume his own.

*

M’Baku’s bed chambers are luxurious, a large bed with silky sheets and thick fur blankets. The windows, like everywhere else, are floor to ceiling, huge as snow and sun pours in past the half-drawn curtains. There are more things: a large desk, trinkets, some sort of computer, a large shelf of books, a collection of well-maintained weapons.

T’Challa doesn’t get a very good look, honestly, because M’Baku is throwing him down onto his bed, and T’Challa is sinking down into the pile of furs, staring hungrily up at M’Baku, who is stripping without ceremony. T’Challa pulls off what remains of his own clothing and licks his lips as M’Baku gets onto the bed with a look like a hungry animal in his eyes.

His hands frame T’Challa’s hips, engulfing him, not anywhere near all the way around, but still too much for the Black Panther to be anything but helplessly aroused. He digs his teeth into his bottom lip, looking up at M’Baku, who’s watching him now as his hands slowly slide higher.

“Could it be that the one who has seduced me has no idea what he’s doing?” he asks as his thumbs slowly circle T’Challa’s nipples.

“I am a fast learner,” T’Challa assures him and M’Baku laughs.

“Oh, I know it, my king,” he says, “In all honesty, your inexperience only makes me hungrier. I want to show you the pleasures of men.”

T’Challa squirms a little, looking up at M’Baku through his lashes. He craves closeness, craves the lord’s body around his own like a protective shell, but… No, they are not lovers. This is a transaction. He thinks it would do him well to remember that, but then M’Baku is kissing him again, mouth hungry and all-consuming. T’Challa gasps, and M’Baku takes that as an invitation for his tongue. T’Challa isn’t used to feeling smaller, or having nothing to hold onto, so he digs one hand into the furs and fists the other into M’Baku’s hair, using his hold to tilt the other man’s head how he wants it so they can kiss more deeply.

M’Baku growls his appreciation, grabs one of T’Challa’s thighs and pulls his legs apart so that he can settle his own body between them, pushing their bodies together, lining up their erections before rocking up towards the king. T’Challa groans and squeezes his thighs absently around M’Baku before pulling back to speak.

“We need lubrication,” he says. “I want…”

“I know what you want, little king,” M’Baku says. His voice is a low, hungry rumble, and the look in his eyes is much the same. T’Challa dares a glance down.

_ I should be having second thoughts, _ he tells himself. M’Baku is devastatingly…  _ proportionate _ , and T’Challa can’t possibly imagine how all of that is going to fit inside of him, but that isn’t going to stop him from trying.

M’Baku notices where he’s looking and laughs at him, grabbing his thigh again and pushing it until it’s flush to his chest. He keeps him there, admiring his flexibility in silence.

“Do not worry,” he says. “It will fit.”

“I am not worried,” T’Challa breathes.

M’Baku laughs again. He leaves the bed to go through a drawer, plucking out a bottle of lube. He also holds up a condom in silent question. T’Challa wrinkles his nose.

“No.”

M’Baku shrugs.

“Very well.” He drops it back into the drawer and then strides back over, hard cock bobbing distractingly with each step.

“Some day,” M’Baku says, getting back on the bed and lubing up two fingers. “When we have more time for such things, I will have you taste it. Do you want to try that?”

T’Challa swallows. His throat feels dry.

“Yes,” he breathes. M’Baku chuckles, smearing lubrication around T’Challa’s hole in slow circles.

“I thought so. Now, be still, and relax. It will feel strange at first, but do not worry. I will make it very good very soon.”

T’Challa grunts in response. He has resisted saying ‘I know. I trust you,’ but only just barely. Now is not the time for such sentiments. He worries that M’Baku would laugh at him for his foolishness, anyway. He looks up at him, licks his lips, and then grunts when one of the other man’s fingers starts to push inside of him. He was right. It feels strange. T’Challa can feel himself going hot with sudden embarrassment and nerves from the sensations in his body. M’Baku shakes his head.

“All is well, my king,” he assures him. “Perhaps I can offer distraction?”

He leans down, and they’re kissing again, lips moving together as M’Baku’s finger breeches deeper into T’Challa’s body. Now that he has something else to do, however, it is less of a concern, not so much at the forefront of his mind when he’s got a plush mouth on his own, a broad tongue licking filthy up against his own. He sucks on it, making occasional grunts as the finger pushes, then crooks.

He yelps. M’Baku pauses. He does it again. This time, T’Challa moans, cock twitching and starting to drool pre.

“I need--” he gasps and M’Baku tsks at him.

“You need what I give you, kinglet,” he says. “Let someone else make the decisions for once in your life.”

“Ass,” T’Challa breathes, and M’Baku laughs now, full-bodied as he crooks his finger again, thrusts it, grinds it until T’Challa can no longer make words. All he can do when a second breaches him is grunt, pounding one fist down into the furs and spreading his legs in a wordless demand for more.

“How cute,” M’Baku says from above him. “Who knew you would become a whore for a man’s touch so easily. Really, T’Challa. I thought that it would take more than this. Are you this easy with women, as well? Or is it something about a man? Something about me, perhaps?” He’s scissoring his fingers, grinning wickedly. “This has been a long time coming. I have been so eager, waiting for this day.”

“What?” T’Challa groans.

“Did you think I didn’t see you looking?”

T’Challa turns his face away, heart pounding in his chest. M’Baku shoves his fingers in hard, and T’Challa cries out.

“Well?” M’Baku purrs.

“I… I thought you didn’t see. Or you did not know,” T’Challa admits. There is no point denying the looks themselves when he’s like this, speared open on two thick fingers.

“I was waiting. I have been dreaming of this day.” A third finger and T’Challa’s cries grow more hoarse. He gnashes his teeth, drags his nails over the furs.

“M’Baku,” he breathes. “I can’t-- I  _ need _ \--”

“You do,” M’Baku agrees. “Can you take it? Right now?”

“I do not care if I can or can not, M’Baku!” T’Challa growls. “I need it.”

“Very well.”

M’Baku lines up, heavy and wet with lube. It’s too much too soon, and it burns, but T’Challa does not in the least regret his demands. It’s good. So good. It rubs over that spot that M’Baku’s fingers were torturing so perfectly and T’Challa’s mouth drops open with a snarl.

“Shall I give you a moment to adjust?”

T’Challa huffs. “What is this mercy all of a sudden, lord M’Baku? You were not so kind with me when you sought to take the throne. Do not be kind now.”

M’Baku pushes in, hard and sudden, stopping only when their hips meet and T’Challa’s cry is surely loud enough to be heard outside the stronghold of M’Baku’s bed chambers.

“That’s it,” M’Baku breathes. “You take it so well. You were made for this. Made for me.”

“Yes,” T’Challa groans. He would say anything M’Baku wanted him right now, but that is a simple truth. “Yours. I-- please. Please--”

“No need to beg, T’Challa,” M’Baku says. He starts moving and T’Challa shudders, wrapping his arms around the other warrior’s broad shoulders, moaning against his skin, body curling in towards the other man in pleasure.

The coupling is quick, rough, messy, and it is perfect. M’Baku’s hands and hips are quick and clever, and when T’Challa comes, it is with a roar. He melts into the bed, peering up at the other man tiredly. He needs to rest, but first, business.

“Your army?” he asks. M’Baku hums.

“I will consider it.”

**Author's Note:**

> come play on [twitter](https://twitter.com/fishgrayson)


End file.
